


Decisions

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is sick, and Sirius stays behind with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> This is an editted version of the extremely old story, 'Chocolate Date Decisions,' off my old FFN account.

Despite Remus insisting that he’s perfectly _fine_ several times, James leans over to palm his forehead. “Huh, you’re not burning up.”

“That’s because I don’t have a fever,” Remus replies, trying not to sound sarcastic. He knows they mean well, and he does appreciate it. But he’s _always_ sick, and it _is_ normal, even if it’s sad. Sirius is perched on the bed across from him, frowning, and Peter is halfway to the door, clutching his battered old broom. “Really,” Remus sighs. “Go practice. You have the match coming up—it’s important.”

James wrinkles his nose. Quidditch is the second most important thing to him; of course he wants to go.

But friendship is the number one most important thing, and he mutters dejectedly, “I don’t want to leave you alone.” Remus has been alone half his life, and he shakes his head.

“James, I know you want to go, and trust me, I really want you to. It’s going to really suck if I wake up after the full moon in two days and find out we lost the cup.”

“Can’t you just come outside and watch?” Peter tries, but Remus shakes his head. He’s still tucked beneath the covers, propped up against a wad of pillows. It makes him nauseous to stand. It makes him feel worse to hold his friends back.

“I’ll stay with him,” Sirius offers suddenly, and James looks around. “I’m not on the Quidditch team.”

Cheeks slightly pink, Remus mumbles, “But... you still want to go, and really, I don’t need a babysitter...”

“But you should have company,” Sirius presses, frowning. “And I only want to fly because I like hanging out with James. I also like hanging out with you; I’m good with staying.” Peter grins delightedly at this—Remus knows he didn’t want to be the one left behind. Really, none of them should be left behind. He’s perfectly capable of moping about alone, but they don’t seem to accept that.

James says slowly, “If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure,” Sirius insists.

Shrugging, James says, “Thanks, Padfoot.” The he turns back to Remus, grinning, and ruffles his hair. Remus winces under the attention, scrunching up his nose. But he still smiles affectionately back at James when James chirps, “Feel better, Moony.”

“Good luck, Prongs.” Remus looks around him. “See you, Wormtail.”

They both nod at him, and James picks his broom back up. Remus is too busy watching them leave to see what Sirius is doing, and the next thing he knows, there’s a ball of black fur jumping onto his bed. Sirius—or rather, Padfoot—just narrowly misses his legs and bounds up the bed, tongue out and panting already. Remus is already giggling by the time Padfoot gets to him, and he scrunches his eyes closed and turns his head to the side—Padfoot licks a huge trail up his cheek. When Padfoot sits down in his lap, Remus can’t help cringing—Sirius weighs even more as a dog than a person. Padfoot must see it, because he climbs off with a whine, nestling next to Remus on the bed. He rolls onto his side and puts a paw over Remus’ legs, shifting to get comfortable.

Remus can’t sleep anymore, even though it is the weekend. He’s slept too much today, and his body’s not having it. Apparently Sirius has other plans, and Remus can’t help but laugh, “Did you stay behind just to be lazy?”

Sirius morphs back into a human at once, probably because he can’t speak English as a dog. He stays where he is though and rolls to drop his head in Remus’ lap. Remus reaches out to pet him fondly—Sirius transforms so often that there isn’t much of a difference to how Remus treats him. Purring contentedly, Sirius sighs, “Actually, I didn’t really wanna play Quidditch, anyway. After that stunt we pulled on Snivellus earlier, I’m exhausted.”

Remus’ hand stops instantly, and he frowns. He doesn’t remember any pranks, but then, he was asleep for most of the day. “What’d you do to him?”

Sirius glances up, seems to think better of saying it, and mutters, “Doesn’t matter. ...Anyway, today wasn’t as fun without you around. We need all four of us together to keep the dynamic right, you know?”

“And the dynamic’s broken right now?” Remus muses. Sirius sticks out his tongue—Remus is petting him again, brushing through his long, wavy black hair. It’s sleek and soft.

“You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

Here Sirius sits up, and he shuffles forward to lean against the pillows, next to Remus. He’s still on top of the blankets, though Remus isn’t, and he rests his head on his hand, elbow digging into the pillows. “What do you think of Evans?”

Remus blinks at the off-topic question; but that’s Sirius for you. “What? I don’t know... She’s nice, I guess.”

“I don’t like her,” Sirius grunts, as abrupt as he is with everything. “She’s stealing our Prongs away. He was trying to catch her attention all morning, and I got stuck with Wormtail for half of it.”

“A fate worse than death, clearly,” Remus laughs. When Sirius sticks out his tongue again, Remus adds, “And he’s allowed to flirt, he’s hardly _our_ Prongs.”

“Yes, he is,” Sirius says simply, as though that’s that.

Raising his eyebrows, Remus repeats, “No, he’s not.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and decides, “Fine, if you don’t want him, I’ll have him. Now he’s just ‘my Prongs.’”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“What about Peter and me?” Remus grins. He rolls over onto his side so he can face Sirius, too.

“Mine too,” Sirius answers. Then he pauses and corrects, “Well, actually, James can have Peter. But you’re definitely mine.”

“Oh, I am?” Remus doesn’t know how Sirius does it; no matter how badly he’s feeling, Sirius can always make him smile. It’s hard to remember that his limbs are all sore and his head is throbbing when Sirius is grinning so brightly and playfully at him. “What if I want to date?”

“Evans can’t have you and neither can any other girl. ...Or anyone else.”

“So... I’m just never allowed to date?”

“Pfft, no,” Sirius scoffs, waving his hand like Remus is being ridiculous. “I’m not _that_ cruel—you’re just only allowed to date other marauders, so we don’t thin out the pack.” When Remus explodes in a fit of laughter, Sirius continues solemnly, “Not Peter, of course—you deserve better, but you can be with James and I.”

Holding a hand over his mouth in an attempt to contain his amusement, Remus murmurs, “And if James and I run off together without you?”

Sirius’ face falls in mock desolation, and he whines, “Remy, I’d be heartbroken!”

“So really, what you’re saying is I can only date you?”

“Don’t act so sad about it—I’m clearly the best choice, anyway.” Sirius strikes a regal pose, which works surprisingly well on him. Sirius is handsome enough to pull off anything.

Remus doesn’t bother to mention that James is definitely straight anyway. Instead, he’s quiet while Sirius suddenly climbs off the bed. He lifts up the blankets and slides under them, next to Remus, and Remus blushes as Sirius settles back in beside him. They’re both in their full uniforms (minus their robes, ties, and shoes), but it’s still a little strange to be under the covers together. Sirius doesn’t look like he finds any of it strange—he looks perfectly comfortable. He throws an arm over the headboard, around Remus’ shoulders. Something slowly occurs to Remus, and he mumbles, “...Wait. So you get me alone, but I have to share you with James?”

“Moony, baby,” Sirius smirks, flicking his hair attractively over his shoulder, “there’s clearly too much sexy here for one person to take.”

“And to think a minute ago you were an uncouth animal, licking my cheek...”

“Just my way of breaking the ice.” Sirius waggles an eyebrow. “It got me in your lap, didn’t it?”

Remus rolls his eyes, because really, Sirius is always getting into his lap. Sirius is just generally a dog, in every sense of the word. Dropping his head onto Sirius’ arm with a sigh, Remus mumbles, “I still don’t think that’s very fair. If you’re going to ban me from dating anyone other than you, I really think I should get you exclusively back. ...And let’s face it, if you and James were going to make out, it would’ve happened already.”

“Hey, you don’t know what we do when I go to his house for the summer.” Sirius is smirking in that joking way of his, but somehow Remus still feels his own smile faltering. Sirius frowns a minute later, probably just answering his. Trying to shrug it off, Sirius decides, “ _Fine_. If you insist, I guess I’ll have to be a one-man man.”

Remus bites his lip when he smiles again, nodding to signal that he insists. Evidently as happy with the compromise, Sirius pecks him on the forehead. It really isn’t any different than how they normally are and how Sirius licked him earlier.

Except that now they’re joking about dating each other, and Sirius is next to him in bed, and _very_ close to him, with an arm around his shoulders that’s starting to stroke through his hair. Remus turns to really look at Sirius—something’s changed. There’s something in his dark eyes that Remus can’t place, and Sirius mumbles, as if to himself, “So you’ll be _my_ Moony?”

Remus nods, slowly. They’re not grinning like fools anymore. There’s a moment of silence, just looking.

Then Sirius tilts his head and pecks Remus again, this time on the lips.

Remus tilts his head, too, pressing in the rest of the way. Their mouths bump into each other, and Remus doesn’t quite know what to do—Sirius’ hand are splaying against the back of his skull. Their noses are bumping. Sirius holds him in place with a tight grip on his hair, grinding them together and shifting closer, so that their torsos are lined up.

Then Sirius’ leg is over Remus’, and suddenly their crotches are against each other—Remus opens his mouth to gasp. Sirius’ tongue instantly dives inside, and he leans over Remus like he’s going to devour him. Remus whimpers but takes it, pressed back down into the pillows.

Remus isn’t at all surprised that Sirius knows how to kiss. Everyone knows he’s a playboy—he’s just too handsome not to be. He’s a shameless flirt, and he’s outgoing and outspoken, and he never seems to have any trouble going for and getting what he wants. Sometimes Remus wonders how the two of them ever became friends—Remus is much more the stay-in-and-study type. But Sirius drags him out and drags the best out of him. Sirius grinds him into the mattress, running a wet, spongy tongue all along Remus’ mouth, fighting with his own and tracing his teeth. Remus moans and tries to suck on it—Sirius’ lips are moving, _ravishing_ him.

It isn’t Remus’ first kiss. But it’s his first kiss with tongue, and it’s the best one he’s ever gotten. His first kiss was also from Sirius, during a joke about fraternizing with dangerous creatures. It made him blush, then, and he’s blushing worse, now. The kiss goes on, and after a few moments, Remus works up the courage to lift his hands to Sirius’ broad shoulders, holding him down.

When Sirius pulls back, his teeth linger on Remus’ bottom lip, tugging it and dribbling a bit of saliva onto his chin. Remus is too heady to wipe it away. He just looks up at Sirius, red-faced and breathless.

Suddenly Sirius looks somber, and he says quietly, “Remus, I... I really don’t want you to date anyone else.”

Remus licks his lips—he can still taste Sirius on them. He can smell Sirius’ musk, thick and a little like cinnamon. Because Sirius has just kissed him stupid, he mumbles, “...Okay.”

“Okay,” Sirius nods. “You’re mine. I mean it.”

“Yours,” Remus repeats.

Truth be told, he never thought about dating, much. The idea of someone wanting to date a werewolf just never seemed practical, and really, he could never imagine anyone making him happier than James, Sirius, and Peter already do. Sirius always goes out of his way to make Remus feel perfect, and he’s never felt more warm and _right_ than he does right now.

Sirius leans into him again, and Remus’ eyes flutter closed.

The door bursts open behind him, and he whips around in bed. James is storming over to them, fuming, “Can you believe it? Malfoy booked the pitch! What the heck—he’s not even on the team! Obviously just trying to stop us from getting better, between all the rich Slytherin kids they’ve got the pitch booked all weekend—I was gonna hex his balls off, but friggin’ Ogg showed up—we seriously need a new gamekeeper.”

James ends his rant by falling face-first onto his bed. Peter is scurrying behind him. Neither of them say anything about Sirius being in bed with Remus, and when Remus glances over, he figures that might be because Padfoot is a dog again.

Padfoot barks up at him, and Remus reaches down to pet the sleek, black fur nuzzled against him. He gives Sirius a look that Peter and James don’t catch, which very clearly says, ‘we’ll continue this later.’


End file.
